


Everyone I Love Leaves

by goldpeak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12x03, 12x03 The Foundry, Alive Mary Winchester, Castiel Helps Dean, Coda, Comforting Castiel, Cuddly Castiel, Cuddly Dean, Cute Castiel, Dean feels Rejected, Dean feels Unloved, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Dean is Doubtful, Dean is afraid, Dean wants to be Loved, Destiel - Freeform, Episode: s12e3 The Foundry, Hurt Dean, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Mary Winchester Leaves, Mary leaves her sons, Post-Episode: s12e03 The Foundry, Sad Dean, Sad Dean Winchester, Sam is sad, s12e3 The Foundry, s12e3 The Foundry Coda, sam is hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 02:38:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8560105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldpeak/pseuds/goldpeak
Summary: Just a few days after being resurrected from the dead, Mary Winchester walks out on her hurt sons again - but this time, purposefully. Dean isn't dealing with it well, but Castiel is there for comforting cuddles and soft words.





	

The heavy bunker door slams shut and out of the corner of his eye, Dean can see Sam flinch. Dean desperately wants to mutter some comforting words, like, ‘she’ll be back soon’ or ‘she just needs some time’ but he’s frozen. Sam’s silent, too; he’s just staring at the bunker door as if he wishes that it’ll swing open, Mary will run down the steps and then she’ll hug them and say that it’s all a trick. It’s not, though. Mary wants her 6-month-old Sam and 4-year-old Dean, both filled with all the happiness and innocence in the world. She doesn’t want these tough, conditioned men that are now older than she is – even though they’re her sons.  
A bitter laugh escapes Dean’s throat. Sam glances at him, his big eyes filled with despair – but Dean doesn’t see that, because he’s already left the main room.  
A bottle of hard liquor finds its way into Dean’s hand and he heads to his room. The door slams shut behind him, and he crosses the room to the far wall which he then carelessly slides down. He pops the cap off of the whiskey and takes a long draw of it, not even flinching when the alcohol burns his throat.  
‘Everyone leaves you, Dean.’  
He jumps at the familiar voice – he knows he’s heard it before, but he can’t place it - not as if he’s really trying to. Exhaustion and despair are both clouding his brain, so he doubts he could even if he tried.  
‘Mommy, Daddy, even Sam...’  
He swallows hard, choking back tears before he takes another long pull of whiskey. The bottle is a third of the way gone already, and he knows that he’ll need more.  
‘You’re not good enough, Dean.’  
He freezes. He’s heard that voice before, but it has never said that – it’s Sam’s voice. It’s distant and muffled, but definitely Sam’s. A noise escapes Dean’s mouth that sounds vaguely like a whimper and he pulls his knees to his chest, shutting his eyes tight and banging the back of his head into the wall repeatedly.  
A headache begins to throb in his skull, but Dean doesn’t stop. He throws the whiskey bottle across the room and it smashes against the wall; the glass shatters into hundreds of pieces and the liquid gushes out, soaking into the floor.  
‘Now that Mommy’s gone, Sam will leave you, and then Cas will too...’  
“No, no...” he mutters to himself, squeezing his eyes shut again. He balls his hands into fists and slams them into the floor, barely registering the pain that shoots up his arms.  
‘No one loves you, Dean. Not anymore.’  
A strangled cry pulls itself from his throat and he feels warm, salty tears drip down his face and splash onto his knees. He’s stopped banging his head into the wall, but his headache is still there and it wants to be known. He presses his palm to his forehead and whimpers before balling his fists up into his hair and pulling, wanting something to distract him from the pain even if the distraction is more pain. Winchester logic.  
The more he pulls, the more the voices increase. New and old voices; some he recognizes and some he doesn’t. Names of every one of his friends or loved ones that’ve died or left him are yelled out and they all bounce around inside his head until he just can’t take it anymore and he screams. It’s long, loud and full of every emotion that Dean’s feeling right now – some that he can’t even begin to name.  
But the scream does nothing to stop the voices – in fact, they increase. It’s as if they’re feeding off of his despair, getting louder and louder until Dean’s entire head is ringing, his vision is swimming with blacks, blues and purples and his entire body is starting to numb.  
Suddenly, they all stop. His vision clears and focuses; he sees that he’s staring at his knees. His fists unclench from his hair and feeling returns to the rest of his body. The ringing in his head dies down to a tiny buzz and he looks up.  
His door has been flung open, and standing in the door frame is a very weary-looking, trenchcoat-wearing angel.  
“What’re you doing here?” Dean mumbles, his breath heaving. He tears his gaze away from the angel because if he looks too long, Cas will disappear just like everyone else he loves or cares about.  
“I sensed your distress. Clearly, something is wrong.” The angel paces over to Dean, tilting his head as he stares down at him. Dean swallows but refuses to look up, instead locking his green gaze on the wall to his left.  
“Mom left,” he mutters; his voice is full of misery, hopelessness and regret.  
Regret at thinking that he could ever have something resembling a family – regret at hyping the idea up so much and getting so excited when even the slightest possibility of it was waved under his nose. All the hope he had possessed seemed to have translated into a plethora of negative feelings that came crashing down on him right when that bunker door slammed shut.  
“Why?” Castiel’s innocent response drew a bitter laugh from Dean.  
“Because apparently, she hates how her kids turned out and she likes them better as a baby and a toddler. Not heartless, selfish fools who break the world more times than they save it,” Dean barely registers the words that claw their way up his throat and out of his mouth. He finally raises his gaze. The spectacular oceans of blue that make up Cas’s eyes meet the mossy green of Dean’s, and a blanket of calm (though it is small, and thin) settles over Dean.  
“Did she actually say that?” Cas asks, kneeling down and placing a calloused hand on Dean’s shoulder. The hunter immediately moves his gaze to look at where the angel’s hand is now laying. He feels an instant urge to shrug it off, but he doesn’t.  
Dean’s incoherent mumble is answer enough for Cas. He reaches out with his other hand and cups Dean’s face, turning it to look at him. “She just needs some time, Dean. It’s a lot to adjust to. She still loves you both. She just has to get used to not being in heaven anymore.”  
Dean knows that what Cas just said is the logical (and probably correct) answer, but he’s still bitter. “Everyone that I love leaves, Cas. Everyone.”  
“That’s not true, Dean,” Cas sighs, removing his hands from Dean’s cheek and shoulder. He steps back and makes his way across the room; with a snap of his fingers, the shattered bottle and puddle of whiskey disappear. “I’m still here, aren’t it?”  
“Barely,” Dean mumbles.  
Cas walks back over to Dean and extends a hand. Dean hesitantly grabs onto it, and soon finds himself being pulled up to his feet. His knees are weak; he instantly begins to fall but Cas wraps his arms around Dean’s shoulders and holds him up.  
The angel guides Dean over to his bed and sits him down on the edge, stepping back and looking Dean over. “I’m sorry that I’m not here as much as you’d like me to be.”  
“I know you’ve gotta find Lucifer,” Dean mumbles, untying one of his boots and flinging it across the room. “But after you do...”  
He falls silent, as if rethinking what he’s about to say. He removes his other shoe, throwing it in the same general direction that he threw the last one before he places his head in his hands with a giant sigh.  
“Yes, Dean?”  
“After you do, just come home. Please,” Dean looks up at Cas, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks.  
“If that’s what you want, then that’s what I’ll do,” Cas says simply, walking towards Dean and bending down so they’re almost at eye level. “You should get some rest now.”  
Dean nods his agreement, wiping a few of the tears off his face. Cas peels the covers back and Dean shuffles under them; he’s still wearing his day clothes but he doesn’t really care.  
“Goodnight, Dean.” Castiel flips the light switch off and is almost out the door when Dean catches his attention.  
“Cas...stay with me?”  
The angel shuts the door, but doesn’t leave the room. Instead he toes off his shoes and kicks them over to the wall. He removes his jackets and hangs them on the doorknob. He takes his tie off and drops it by his shoes before he moves around to the other side of the bed and gets on top of the covers, moving back so he’s sitting against the headboard.  
All his ‘manly’ instincts are telling Dean ‘no, don’t do this’ but he tones out his inner conscious and snuggles up next to Cas, pressing his face into the thin fabric covering Cas’s side. He drapes his legs over Cas’s, and splays his arm across the angel’s waist. He’s a bit afraid as to how Castiel will respond, but right now he just wants to be warm and feel loved.  
Cas replies not with words, but by placing his hand on the top of Dean’s head and carding through his tousled hair, humming softly. His other hand finds its’ way to where Dean’s own hand is laying on his waist, and he gently links their fingers together.  
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean mumbles. The deep shade of red that he’s turned is hidden by the position his head is in. He’s stopped crying, and his breathing pattern is returning to normal.  
“Of course, Dean,” comes the quiet but sure reply. “I’ll never leave you. Please remember that.”  
...

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, Mary leaving like that was selfish. I understand why she did, but she didn't think about how it would affect her sons. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little fic. I'm not good at angst, but I hope this was acceptable. Leave a comment with your opinions? Love hearing from you all. xx


End file.
